I'm not sure how I've managed this, but I have organized my room to hoard things. Ridiculous things. Things I shouldn't still have after 5 years, but they are so tightly wrapped up in good memories that I physically cannot bring myself to trash them. For example- I have tight pink leggings that I have worn once in my life, to a decade dance, and I now cling to the notion that if I were to ever put those pants back on, that night will resurrect.
I have letters from high school, old Cd's, a clam shell with sentimental value, a message I wrote myself 7 years ago and jammed in a bottle, diaries starting from kindergarten to the present, endless highschool memorabilia, souvi's from Australia I failed to deliver, memories, memories, memories. And I love it. I love that people can look in my room and see it's nothing special. But if you do a little digging, I have a collection of life material wedged in any little crack, stuffed between books, hidden under my bed, and the most valuable of my life stories are held in an Adidas shoebox from my grade 10 basketball kicks. Those were the days.
So I am thinking of my pack rat existence because yesterday I made myself do a little digging, and then a little dumping. It was a sad struggle, but I did manage to fill 3 bags of things destined for another home, which are now sadly sitting in transition in the corner store's amity bin.
It was tough. Even tougher to explain to James that during the time he vacuumed the whole downstairs and cleaned the entire kitchen, that I was still plugging away in my own little room.
But really, it is amazing what a little room excavating can pull up. I am currently sitting here in a pair of tan pants that I thought were dead to the world as of years ago. And how can you not find old letters and read them? Dusting was simply not a priority.
But anyways, the room is clean, my pile has grown of things I need to bring to my University home, and my inventory list of clothes is still missing 10 much needed items. I think my room has a black hole I am unaware of. But if there is one thing I love about cleaning my room, it's taking that time to re-examine the things I have collected over the years, and see if they still hold that priceless quality. They always do. And the space I make in my closet from tossing out old clothes seems to quite easily adapt to an extra shoebox or two.. thanks to James, and four months worth of letters while I was away. What a guy :)
If there is anything in the world I want to hang on to as I get older, it's that. And perhaps a pair of pink leggings. I hear the 80's are here to stay --and I am totally for it.
